


Dreams

by bittenfeld



Category: Invasion America (Cartoon)
Genre: Age Difference, Beating, Brutality, Coming of Age, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Rape, Rape Recovery, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 05:32:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3557936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David Carter and Sheriff Rafe had been plucked up by the Ooshati cruiser, crewed by rebel military loyal to David’s father, Cale Oosha.  Now the Earth-born heir to the Tyrusian throne, a boy, is flying to an unknown world, expected to lead troops in a war he knows nothing about.  His parents gone, his familiar life over, the only one he can trust is Rafe.</p><p>Final – Chapter 5:  This chapter is a work in progress.  David and Rafe are captured by the Dragit’s men and brutalized, but their love pulls them through.</p><p>“I know I’m not my father, but can you like me…that way… at all?”<br/>A mellow warmth ran through Rafe’s nerves, and he smiled supportively.  “David,” he assured, “it’s very easy to like you that way.”  “Then can we do it again sometime?”  “If you’d like.”  “Tonight?”  A little smile.  “I suppose that could be arranged.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Don’t look directly at the sun with the naked eye, or you’ll damage your vision_ , they always warned. Well, here he was, doing exactly that, and as a matter of fact, it didn’t hurt one bit.

Of course that could have been due to the fact that the sun was now 900 million miles away, and just a bright spot in the rear viewing portal of the Tyrusian space cruiser as it sped outward-bound through the solar system somewhere between the orbits of Jupiter and Saturn.

“What I Did on My Summer Vacation” – man, he had the essay to beat them all: finding out that your long-missing father is an extra-terrestrial and king of an alien planet light-years from Earth, who’d been deposed by an evil uncle intent on taking the throne for himself then plotting an assault to conquer Earth, discovering that aliens have infiltrated the US government and military, running for your life from the Pentagon, alien hit-men, and every damn cop in the country who was after your hide, and now flying through outer space at scientifically-impossible-faster-than-light speed in an alien spacecraft – yeah, that was definitely worth an A++ – that was, of course, if the school therapist didn’t call his mom instead to say, “Ms. Carter, we’re afraid your son David’s over-active imagination seems to have caused some mild disorientation – he might benefit from some sessions with a psychiatrist. We can recommend several good ones…”

But of course it wouldn’t do any good to try to contact his mom, because she was dead now. She was dead, three days ago, caught in some science-fiction molecular disintegration implosion that swallowed her, the house, the car, and all their worldly possessions. Tears threatened to well up again. He had loved her more than anything else in the world, and now she was gone. It was all gone – in one instant, his whole life was taken from him, everything he owned, everything he knew.

No, not everything. One piece of familiarity remained – the town sheriff, Rafe, a big burly man who had ridden herd over David most of his life. Except that it turned out, good old Sheriff Rafe wasn’t all he seemed either – also an extra-terrestrial, a Tyrusian military commander, Captain of the Royal Guard, and loyal protector of David’s father.

And, well, yes, there was one other still left, too – his best friend in high-school, Jim Bailey, they’d been best buds since kindergarten when Jim and his widowed mom had moved in down the street. His reaction to David’s adventures would be a lot more direct than those stuffed-shirt psychologists: “Shoot-outs with black-ops, running with aliens from outer space, hopping a joy-ride on the mother-ship – man, David, _what_ have you been _smoking_?? Man, whatever it is, c’mon, share!”

Yes, Jim and his mom were probably still all right. David wondered if he’d ever see them again.

He wondered if he’d ever see Earth again.

Right now Rafe, along with the captain of the cruiser and several staff officers, huddled over the main bridge console, engaged in a heated discussion. From the center of the console projected a large hologram of some planet which moved and rotated as fingers touched it. Then the image shimmered to be replaced by another, this time of some city or installation. It moved and changed at a gesture, parts of the image enlarging or sliding past. Kind of like an iPad touch-screen, David considered, except in giant 3-D. David had no idea what the topic of interest was, though, because they were speaking in Tyrusian. To his ear, the harsh gutturals sounded a bit like German, a bit like Russian. And all totally unintelligible.

Other bridge personnel sat at individual consoles upon which ran streams of strange symbols, fingers darting over input screens, now and then one crewman speaking to another, or announcing some information for the captain. David couldn’t begin to guess what each of their functions were. Did they have pilots, navigators, comm officers, and the like, on Tyrusian vessels?

Two days ago, he and Rafe had been plucked up off the isolated forested shoreline of Massachusetts’ Maple Island by the arrival of the Ooshati cruiser, crewed by rebel military loyal to David’s father, Cale Oosha. Even if their king were dead, they would still fight to the last man against the usurper, Dragit. Ooshati intelligence had heard the rumors about the Earth-born heir to the throne at the same time that Dragit’s men had, and had raced the Dragit’s forces to Earth to effect a rescue before Dragit could destroy the one who might challenge in his father’s stead. Unfortunately they were two days later than Dragit’s forces, but at least Commander Rafe and the young man had managed to stave off the attacks until the cruiser could arrive.

It was David’s first real look at Tyrusians. The ones on Earth were quite human-looking, and anyway, David had been running and fighting for his life, so he hadn't taken the time to study them closely. Now he could see that some of the crew members looked almost human, others less so. Long, lean and gangly, with long narrow eyes and sharply angled facial bones, seemed to be the predominant Tyrusian build, including some standing quite tall, perhaps cresting seven feet. The more extreme individuals, almost skeletal in their appearance, would definitely stick out as aliens on Earth; the more moderate might attract a little attention just as some unusual human shapes do. But the ones with near-average Terran body-forms, like Rafe, wouldn’t be noticeable at all. They could blend right in with Earthlings – and had been doing just that, according to Rafe, for the past thirty years.

The men on the ship all wore their hair long and tied in ponytails – in various colors, David noted, some of which would not be natural on Earth, like aqua and cerise and violet. But if their hair was all different colors, David noted that their eyes were all similar, in various shades of blue, like his own.

“Khanict da Cale Oosha la koml, David Oosha,” Rafe had announced to the bridge crew upon their boarding.

David didn’t know a single syllable of the language, but the way Rafe had gestured at him, and all the men looked at him and bowed their heads, he could assume that Rafe had introduced him as the son of their king. He hadn't the vaguest idea what to say in response, but nodded and smiled at them, and hoped that a smile was universal – literally.

Then the ship’s captain had approached David with another officer, and addressed him: “Krashti’vt dahk toh Tchat dahk-lil. David Oosha la koml Cale zigath na dodohk ka.”

David wished he could understand the tall man with an exotic angular face and long orange hair bound at the nape of his neck, who watched him sternly with piercing blue eyes. But all he could do was continue smiling blankly at the officer.

Perfunctorily Rafe had interrupted, “Khanict Tyrus-lach entr delak. Erd-spak kommt ka ga?”

“Yes, I am familiar with Earth-speak,” the commanding officer had acknowledged, and repeated to David, now in English, “I am Commander Krashti’vt, and this is First-Officer Tchat. We are honored by your presence, David Oosha, son of Cale.”

“Do you know my father?” David had queried urgently. “Do you know if he’s still alive?”

“I know him,” the man had responded, “but I cannot tell you if he is alive or not. We lost contact with him three years ago during a siege in the Medrusian sector.”

That had elicited a grumble from Rafe, and a needle-sharp pain in David’s chest. Somehow he had felt that if they could just make contact with the Ooshati, his father would also be found, safe and sound.

“Then he is either dead, or captured,” Rafe surmised glumly.

“Or trapped so deep within that he has not be able to make contact,” Tchat suggested. His physique was one of the more strange gaunt body-shapes, with lime-green hair drawn into a high ponytail.

“And the Dragit governs all of Tyrus now?”

Krashti’vt’s stern face hardened even more. “Dragit controls most of the planet, behind the guise of calling himself regent until Cale returns. We Ooshati have managed to hold onto some pockets, but it is a difficult fight, as most of the armed forces are loyal to the Dragit.” He looked over at David. “With our liege missing, the son is now our commander.”

“No!” David balked suddenly, over-awed by these battle-hardened men of war who expected his guidance. “I’m just a kid… not some king or something!... And the most I’ve ever known about war… is from video games.”

The commander just stared at him, until Rafe spoke up, covering for him, and informing the Tyrusians, “His Highness has not yet been schooled in our ways. And the stress of these past two days is overwhelming for him. There is long travel ahead of us, and it would help if perhaps he could get some rest now.”

The commander had complied, escorting him to the officer’s own private quarters. As they walked down the corridor, the man tried to say something assuring. “If Cale Oosha were dead or captured, I do believe that Dragit would parade his body as a trophy before the populace. The fact that he has not done so, should give us all hope that your father is indeed still alive and out of the tyrant’s grasp.”

“Thank you, sir, that makes me feel better.” And David had felt the need to make up for his previous thoughtless remarks. “And I promise I will do my best, too, Commander.”

Finally a little smile had warmed the stern countenance. “I know you shall, Oosha son.”  
~ ~ ~

As the gathering around the bridge console separated, Rafe approached David’s bulkhead perch near the viewing portal. Lips were drawn tight in what could be a smile, but David surmised it was probably more likely muted frustration. By the following morning’s duty-shift after their departure from Earth two days ago, the older man had traded his sheriff’s uniform for his true garb, the grey-and-black uniform of a Tyrusian officer, the same as David had been offered to replace his own ripped dirty shirt and jeans. At least the youth looked like a real Tyrusian now, even if he still didn’t feel like one.

David smiled at the man, in a minor attempt to diffuse the tense aura that seemed to linger on the bridge. “What’s up?” he greeted. “You and Commander Krashti’vt looked like you were about to go at it. Or is that normal Tyrusian conversation?”

A quick shake of head dismissed the boy’s concern. “No. It’s just that they’re planning to stop at an off-world port to re-supply and rendezvous with other Ooshati troops. But I don’t like it. Security could easily be compromised.”

“Don’t you think the commander will take all the necessary precautions?”

“It’s not that – it’s that the base is near a Dragit stronghold. I don't like getting you that close to Dragit right now.”

“I’ll be all right,” the youth assured with a brighter smile. “I’ve got you to protect me.”

But his attempt at minor levity only elicited a scowling furrow of heavy brow. “I’m one man,” snapped a sharp reminder.

The slight chiding chastened the youth. Of course Rafe could be overcome. Yet against any odds, without any hesitation, he would protect his charge even to the death. His loyalty and utter obligation to duty were nothing to diminish or casually take for granted, even though David had certainly not meant it that way anyway.

To shift the mood, David inquired, “Where are we going? How far away is it?”

“It’s a moon of the planet Eeothik which orbits the twin star of our sun. Even with tachyon-drive, it will still take about three weeks of Earth-time to reach it.”

His gaze lingered on the view through the portal. The ship was passing close enough to Saturn that the many-shaded rings of ice rock, though distant, were clearly visible. David watched with him. At home on clear nights, he’d always enjoyed finding the planet through a telescope. He certainly had never expected to see it one day right outside his window.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Rafe remarked. “Tyrus is a ringed planet too. Perhaps soon you may see it as well.”

“I’d like to,” David agreed, and surprised himself a bit that he really meant it. “And Rafe,” the youth assured. “You’re not just one man – you’re worth a whole army.”

A tiny quirk of lips responded.  
* * * * *

David lay down on the bunk, but couldn’t sleep, just staring up at the ceiling. Rafe had suggested to the crew that the boy was overwhelmed. Well, overwhelmed was putting it mildly. Three days ago he was just a normal high school kid, whose greatest worries were upcoming finals, and who to invite to the senior prom. Now everything had changed. No, overwhelming didn’t even come close. Completely, totally unimaginably mind-blowing, maybe.

Rafe – the hard-ass small-town sheriff who rode David’s tail all these years. He had willingly devoted the last seventeen years of his life to remaining on Earth, away from his home planet, just to watch over and protect one ungrateful Earth brat. God, David owed him a humongous apology.

And his mother. He hadn't even truly grieved her yet. Pain knifed his chest at the thought of her, yet his eyes remained dry. He had sobbed like crazy right after it happened, but then soon afterwards, survival-fight-or-flight had over-taken his body and shifted it into auto-pilot, and the numb feeling still hadn't completely faded. Someday it would, however, and he knew then all the feelings would finally hit him like a tsunami.

And then, unbidden, an old argument replayed in his mind, a sharp exchange of words with his mother, several years ago – over something stupid probably, he couldn’t even remember what – and in anger he had spat out that maybe the reason the she never said anything about his father was that it was probably the mailman on his afternoon rounds one day. She had slapped him so hard, his face had stung for two days. Afterward, he had apologized profusely and they had made up, crying and hugging, but he would give anything now to take back those words unspoken.

Although he figured he was lucky at least that Rafe hadn't overheard him, or he’d probably still be standing to take his meals.

Yet with all the mystery surrounding his father, even three nights ago as Rafe’s patrol car spirited him away from the tragedy that had been his home and his life, he had really noticed for the first time that the sheriff shared the same unusual violet-blue eyes as his own, and the same subtly long slanted eyelids – and hadn't his mother once said, upon his asking what his father looked like, to look in the mirror? – and the man’s constant presence in the background of David’s life, keeping an eye on the boy, much to David’s chafing irritation – but maybe there was reason for that? – and so, three nights ago, as they barreled down winding forest back-roads in the black-and-white, breaking all speed limits, David had finally, innocently, asked Rafe, “Are you my father?”

He hadn’t been prepared for the sudden hard look that the sheriff shot at him – sharp and stern, that made him unconsciously push back an inch in his seat - but beneath that, a deep hurting pain that David had never seen the older man express before. And in that instant, David humbly regretted all the attitude he had thrown this man’s way through the years.

“No, boy, I’m not your father,” the sheriff had responded gruffly, then immediately turned his attention back to the road and their desperate getaway.

~ ~ ~

 _to be continued_ …


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David looked down, while Rafe watched patiently expectant. “Rafe,” the young man started, then hesitated. But the apology need to be said – David knew he wouldn’t feel right until it was. Nodding as if coming to agreement with himself, he admit¬ted, “All the grief I gave you as sheriff… I just… wanted to say, I’m sorry, Rafe. I was a jerk.”  
> “No. You were a boy growing up.”

Since he couldn’t sleep, and since just lying there only allowed hopeless thoughts to multiply like gnats, he got up, then started to explore the cabin. On a small bedside table sat a small silver-like box about three inches square. Curiously he reached for it, and that must have accidentally activated something because a small hologram shot up from the top of the cube. Startled, David jerked his hand back, then leaned forward to see the picture, realizing it was an image of a younger Krashti’vt and Tchat, arms around shoulders and smiling just like any couple of college friends on Earth. A little humorously, David noted that he had never seen Tyrusians really smile before, and hadn't been sure they actually could. Both were dressed in crew-maroon, rather than command-grey, but there was no mistaking the bright orange hair and the lime-green tresses, or the lean gaunt form of the first-officer. They looked so relaxed and so warm, that David smiled himself, only to feel a sting of regret a moment later. _That could be me and Jim_ , he considered, _going to college next year together or maybe joining the army together_. But now that future would never be.

Then wondering how to turn the picture off, gingerly David reached toward the box again, and obediently the image vanished.

Across the room, a couple of viewing and communication globes, looking much like the crystal sphere David’s mother had protected as a prized possession all those years, sat on a desk beside various pieces of technical instruments and electronic equipment, the purposes of which David had absolutely no idea. And, after the little box incident, he hesitated to reach for them.

At least, that first day, Commander Krashti’vt had shown him how to operate the door with a wave of a hand over the sensor panel. And if David wanted to contact the bridge, he only needed to press certain symbols on an intercom screen.

On the wall near the door, lined up on one shelf, lay several rolls of some paper-like material that looked for all the world like ancient scrolls that David had once seen in the museum. Those would probably be safe to touch, so carefully he took one down and unrolled it partway. And for all he knew, it could have been just like those old writings – the alien symbols didn’t make any more sense to his eyes than ancient Babylonian cuneiform or old Norse runes.

A light knock on the door, and Rafe’s baritone muffled through the bulkhead inquired softly, “David, are you still awake?”

“Yeah,” David called, putting the scroll back. “C’mon in.”

The door slid open, and Rafe stood in the doorway. “I’m about to retire – I just wanted to make sure you’re all right, see if you needed anything.”

David smiled. “No, I’m fine, thanks.”

“Good,” Rafe acknowledged, and started to leave. “I’ll see you at shift breakfast, then.”

“Wait – ” David put up a hand as if to stop him. “Can we talk for a little bit?... I can’t sleep… things just going round and round in my head… you know.”

“Of course.” And stepping inside, Rafe let the door slide shut behind him.

Suddenly a little shy with embarrassment, David looked down, while Rafe watched patiently expectant. “Rafe,” the young man started, then hesitated. But the apology need to be said – David knew he wouldn’t feel right until it was. Nodding as if coming to agreement with himself, he admit­ted, “All the grief I gave you as sheriff… I just… wanted to say, I’m sorry, Rafe. I was a jerk.”

“No. You were a boy growing up.” The older man smiled. “I seem to recall another just as stubborn and rebellious.”

“And I guess I kind of disappointed Commander Krashti’vt – what I said about not knowing how to command an army…”

“Well,” Rafe admitted, “it wasn’t the answer he expected from the heir to our planet’s throne.” He smiled gently. “But you’ll learn – in time.”

The boy slumped. “But it’s true. You don’t know what you’re all asking of me, Rafe! I lost my father, and I just lost my mother. My whole life has just… disintegrated. I have nothing left. You don’t understand! I don’t know what do to. I don’t know how to lead armies…. or save planets from evil tyrants…”

“I do understand, boy. I was younger than you when I lost both my parents.” With slow measured step, he moved toward the window. The ship had left Saturn behind and now plowed out into the forever-darkness toward Uranus’ orbit. “It was a long time ago, during your grandfather’s reign. There was an attack on the palace by underground rebels. I was twelve years old. I went to sleep a carefree child, and woke up later that night to find my home in flames, and my parents’ bodies in the rubble.” The stern face hardened as a sheen glistened in tight eyes. “I joined the army the next day.”

“Oh.” David hadn’t considered the pain that might have lain in this man’s past. So much about this man he had never known, or could even have guessed at, never even thought to try to learn. “I’m… sorry…” And he felt moisture gather in his own eyes for that long-ago night. “How old was my father then?”

“You father had just been born. And although nothing was ever proven, there was some sus­picion that it was an attempt on your father’s life orchestrated by your great-uncle, the Dragit, since Cale’s appearance took Dragit out of the line of succession.”

“And now Dragit’s trying to kill me.” Plopping down on the bed, David sat with his back against the wall. “Rafe, how’m I ever gonna be what you expect of me… how can I follow in my father’s footsteps? I haven’t even graduated from high school yet.” Lips pouted a moue. “I wish you could just take over as king, instead of me. Why can’t I just hand it to you? You’re _from_ Tyrus – I’ve never been there, I don’t even know the language. And you sure know a whole lot more about being a leader than I do.”

“Because I’m not in direct lineage to do so. And because it’s my bounden duty to guard and guide the one who sits on the throne. Your duty and destiny is to sit on it.”

“yeah, but…” David slumped. “Then why wasn’t I told about my heritage before? I don’t understand. Why was I kept in the dark all these years? I mean, my dad knew, my mom knew, you knew. But no one thought to tell _me_ , and I’m the one that everyone’s trying to hunt down – I nearly got my tail shot off the other night.” Frustration seeped into his voice. “Why, Rafe? Didn’t anyone think it was important to let me know a long time ago who I really am?”

A hard breath soughed from the older man’s lips. “Well, we couldn’t tell you when you very young – you wouldn’t have understood. And then, later, when you grew into your teens, began to reach manhood… well, your mother and I had a number of argu… discussions about it. I wanted to start training you in earnest, but she wanted to keep you safe – I guess she figured keeping you shel­tered would protect you from those who we knew would come for you one day. Of course, she had the final say about it because she was your mother, and I was but your guardian and protector. On Tyrus, you would have been raised and trained as heir to the throne as soon as you could walk and speak. But we were not on Tyrus, we were on Earth, and we were hunted.”

“What was it like between my mom and dad? And between you and my mom?”

“Your mother and father loved each other very much. On Tyrus, your father would have been expected to marry a noblewoman chosen for him, whether he loved her or not. So I am glad that in­stead he was able to find true love, if only for a few short years. And for the time they had together, they were very happy. And know, David, that they both loved you very very much.”

“And what about you and her after my father left?”

“If you mean, was there anything between us, no, there never was.” Rafe’s smile widened. “You know, your mother was my queen, not to mention she was still a married woman.”

“Queen?” David puzzled. _No, we just lived a normal regular small-town suburban life_ … It was easier now to think of his father as king – he was still no more than just a far-off image to David, not real flesh and blood yet. But his mother – _no, she’s just Mom, not some untouchable aristocrat…_ He certainly couldn’t see her lolling around on a throne all day, wearing a jeweled tiara, and care­lessly waving servants about.

“Yes,” Rafe assured. “Even though we were on earth, she was married to my king, and therefore she was my queen. And I swore ritual fealty to her, just as I had sworn to your father and your grandfather, and just as I will to you some day when you enter manhood.”

“But you just said you guys argued a lot.”

“Well, we had our… differences, I suppose you could say. I know it tore their hearts when your father had to leave, even though we all knew there was no other choice. It was my duty to give him the report that the Ooshati needed him back. As king, it was his duty to guide his people and fight his throne’s usurper, and that duty came before his happiness or hers. But I know your mother always blamed me a little for his leaving. And the discussions about raising you. She was a mother, and I was a warrior, and of course we both wanted what was right for you, but we often disagreed quite… vehemently… on the manner in which to accomplish that.”

David smiled wistfully. “She was always pretty assertive, wasn’t she?”

“Yes she was. And don’t get me wrong, David. I admired that in her very much. She would have made a fine strong queen to sit beside Cale and lead our people. Regardless of our differences, I cared about her as a friend, and I respected her as our guide. When your father and I were first stranded on Earth, she taught us how to fit in to Earth culture. Without her, we would have shortly been dis­covered by our pursuers, and this future would have turned out quite differently.”

“And I wouldn’t be here.”

“No. And with that, Dragit would sit on the throne unopposed.” A heavy sigh. “I wish I had the time to train you, as I trained your father. But I don’t. There’s no time left. Sometimes boys get thrown into the cauldron of war, and – if they survive – they come out men. I’m afraid that’s what you’re going to have to do, David. Survive – and grow to be the man that your father and I know you can be. There are two worlds depending on that.”

A meek smile turned the boy’s lips. “Two whole worlds, depending on me? It can’t just be one, huh?”

“I’m afraid not.”

A breath escaped David’s lips. It was so much to take in. So much to be expected of. “Y’know, I know it was you who talked my mother into at least letting me go out for martial arts and wrest­ling – she wouldn’t have let me on her own, I know, she always acted like I was made of glass or something. And the times you took me out to the shooting range with you – you _were_ training me, weren’t you? You knew this day would come.”

“Well, I did what I could.”

“And I didn’t fully appreciate it at the time. I’m sorry.”

A gruff response. “That’s past, boy, it doesn’t matter any more. What does matter is what you choose to do now.”

Finally David smiled, determination in his face. “Well, if I’m going to be king of Tyrus someday, I guess I better start learning the language and customs, and everything, huh?”

Rafe grinned. “Now you understand, David Oosha, son of Cale.”

* * * * *

 _to be continued_ …


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big man smiled. “Well, I wouldn’t worry about the commander. I suspect he and his first officer are quite used to sharing a cabin.” And there was an odd little knowing something in his ex¬pression that caught David’s notice.  
> Questioningly he frowned up at his protector and guide. “You make it sound like they’re sleeping together.”  
> “They are.”

David was glad he wasn’t claustrophobic, at least not much, to be stuck on the ship for the three-weeks-plus journey to their destination. Although the vessel wasn’t roomy by any means, at least it wasn’t too stifling either. While Rafe spent most on-duty hours with the commander and first-officer, going over reports, being brought up to date on the Tyrusian situation, discussing strategy, or whatever, David mainly just tried to stay out of the way.

Most of the time he spent wandering the corridors, or settling in some unobtrusive spot on the bridge, to listen in on Rafe and Krashti’vt. Not that he could understand a word of it, as they rever­ted to their own tongue when not addressing David directly, but at least he would pay attention to vocal inflections and facial expressions, as if trying to gain some meaning. And he found he was beginning to enjoy the sound and the flavor of the strange alien language as well.

At one point, Krashti’vt looked up from his tête-à-tête with Rafe, to offer to David: “Your Highness, no doubt you are curious about the ship and our people and everything about us. Please feel free to speak to all crew members and bridge personnel, and ask about anything you wish.”

“Thank you, Commander,” David acknowledged. “I just didn’t want to interfere with any­thing, or interrupt anyone... or accidentally get into something I wasn’t supposed to.”

But the man shook his head. “This is your ship, Your Highness, and we are your people. There are no secrets from you. I fear not everyone here comprehends Earth-speak, but those who do will be happy to answer your questions.”

“And try anyway to communicate with those who don’t know Earth-speak,” Rafe added. “It’s not too soon for you to begin studying your people’s tongue.”

“I will,” David agreed. “And thanks again, Commander.”

By a nod of the head, Krashti’vt indicated one man seated at a console. “Lieutenant Rahlim is one of our pilots. Rahlim dahr, please explain tachyon drive to His Highness. Faster-than-light travel is un­known on Earth. I think he would find it interesting.”

“Yes sir.” The tall blue-haired man smiled at David.

David didn’t understand Einsteinian physics, much less non-Einsteinian physics. So, listening to a detailed explanation about tachyon drive was fascinating, although so unintelligible that the man might well have been speaking in Tyrusian anyway. But then, after going on to explain how the cruiser was guided by amplified thought-waves, he took the ship off auto-pilot and offered David the oppor­tu­nity to drive. And at that, David’s eyes widened excitedly.

He supposed Rahlim was really retaining 99 percent of the control, so as not to let David kill them all. But as David placed his hands over the control globe in the center of the console and tried to focus his mind on the navigation screen before him, he could feel the thrum of energy tingling his palms, and the ship did respond to him. For a moment the navigation map showed them drifting off course, but at the pilot’s coaxing, (“you must focus on this point – here”), David found rather quickly he could center his thoughts, and the ship regained its line of travel.

And David considered that, after all the hell he’d been through, his enthusiasm was, ever so slightly, beginning to return.  
* * * * *

Until three days later, when Rafe found David in his quarters, sitting on the bed, arms around knees, head down moodily. Whatever good temperament had begun the last few days, now had vanished. And Rafe could guess why.

“David,” he announced gently. “I thought you’d like to know, we’ve passed beyond the solar system now.”

Propping his chin on his knees, David nodded glumly. “Yeah. Tchat told me a little while ago.” A heavy sigh escaped his nostrils, and he closed his eyes. “It’s really over now, isn’t it? – my whole life, the way it was…” Wetness spangled his lashes, as a reflexive shiver tingled over him. “I’m scared, Rafe. I’m really scared.”

“I understand.”

A viewing globe that he had brought in, Rafe set on the bedside table, then took a seat on the edge of the bed. And laying a gentle hand on the boy’s knee, he sympathized, “There’s nothing I can say to make it any easier. I’m sorry.”

“Will I ever come back? Will I ever see Earth again?”

“I’m sure you will. As soon as your great-uncle is dealt with, and your father – or you – regain the throne, diplomatic channels will be opened between Tyrus and Earth. And who better to proffer it, than one who is blood of both worlds?”

Wiping teary eyes on his uniform sleeve, David snuffed a runny nose. “I wish my mom could see that.” Moisture welled up again. “Oh, god, I wish she was still here.”

“I know.” Then reaching for the viewing globe, he tried to ease David’s mood. “Here, I brought you something. I gathered some pictures of Tyrus, and some of your father – I thought you might like to see them, and it might help pass the time. There are some of your mother and father on Earth as well.”

“Sure.” Again David wiped his eyes and sniffled.

Rafe tapped the globe, and an image appeared within the crystalline sphere – a cityscape of strange and beautiful architecture – buildings that looked like they belonged in The Arabian Nights, or maybe Atlantis. But that wasn’t what made David gasp.

From the top of the sky to the horizon, multiple dark and light bands crossed the sky diagonally – the planet’s rings, just like Rafe had promised. And David imagined that might just be like what some inhabitant of Saturn would see when they looked up to the heavens.

“This is the capital city,” Rafe announced. “And that’s the view from the balcony of your father's private quarters in the castle.”

“Wow,” David breathed, still intrigued by the alien sky.

Rafe nodded. “Yes, and those are the rings of Tyrus – beautiful to look at, dangerous to cross through.”

~ ~ ~

“Earth has had great civilizations throughout the past 10,000 years too. But they would rise and then fall, and dark ages would beset civilization for years – centuries perhaps – in between. And so human society would grow in spurts, and lose ground in between. However, on Tyrus, our society has continued for 10,000 years.”

“With no wars?” David questioned in disbelief.

“No, we’ve had wars,” Rafe admitted. “But civilization never collapsed. We didn’t suffer setbacks such as in scientific knowledge. If Earth had had the same record, no doubt it would equal us in technological and cultural advancement.”

~ ~ ~

During their next off-duty shift, Rafe kindly suggests that David might like to see some pic­tures of his father, and of Tyrus to pass the time. He takes one of the viewing globes and places it on the desk –– and a series of pictures begins. Pictures of the planet – ringed as Rafe had promised – show a land and cities of wondrous futuristic splendor.

David is in awe of such a beautiful place, and asks if the entire planet looks like these photos. Rafe agrees, yes much of it is beautiful, but other places offer great danger – arid desolate areas, uninhabitable, scoured by massive windstorms that never cease.

There are many pictures of his father as a boy, and as an adult, and many of Cale and Rafe looking very happy, and very close. David notes Rafe’s hair, long and a dusky rose color, unlike the close-cropped iron-grey that it is now. And like the crewmen now, the younger Rafe’s and Cale’s hair is gathered in thick ponytails. David asks if all the men on Tyrus wear their hair like that.

“Soldiers do,” Rafe replied. “Sometimes when they prepare to engage in battle, they will braid it in a queue. Something of a warrior’s badge.”

David pondered, “If I’m going to be in command, am I supposed to start growing my hair, too?”

A little shrug. “Only if you’d like. It isn’t mandatory.” A large hand reached to gently cup the thick black hair at David’s nape. “But I think it would look very good on you.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

And David took heed of the wistful gaze that mellowed the older man’s eyes, and he knew – “You’re thinking about my father, aren’t you?”

A brief acknowledging shift of head. “Partly.”

“Only partly?”

The gentle gaze rested on him as the big man replied enigmatically, “The son isn’t merely the lesser light of the father.” And with the merest hint of a sad little smile, and a last feather-caress of the young man’s hair, Rafe turned and left the cabin.

Staring after the closed door, David suddenly needed to sit down on the bed. Things were changing between him and Rafe. No longer the smart-mouth kid and the hard-nosed lawman keeping him in line. Now everything was totally dependent on the older man, and David knew it. Rafe was his only link to the lost past, and his vital life-line to an unknown future.

And the linchpin between them: David’s father, Cale Oosha, king of Tyrus, dearly known to Rafe, yet no more than a shadow figure to David.

~ ~ ~

David’s wandering gaze fell on the shelf of scrolls again. And picking out the scroll he had puzzled over earlier, he showed it to Rafe. “Is this ancient Tyrusian?” he asked. “It looks like stuff we studied in World History class. Can you read it?”

Glancing over the first few lines of characters, Rafe chuckled. “This isn’t ancient, boy. It’s only twenty-five years old.”

That piqued David’s interest. “What is it?”

Spreading a couple of feet of the parchment on the nearby desk, Rafe explained, “Celebratory events and state occasions are commemorated in hand-inscribed scrolls this way. This is your father’s coronation ceremony and speech.”

And interest morphed into utter fascination. Awestruck, David stared at the unintelligible figures.

One thick calloused finger traced a line of text. “Here is his name: ‘To Cale Oosha, our king and liege, we bend our knees and offer our hearts and souls.’ That’s the first pronouncement of the coronation ritual.”

A quick intake of breath; and with almost sacred reverence, David touched his own fingertip to the characters that spelled his father’s name. “ ‘Cale Oosha’,” he breathed. Eagerly he looked up at the older man. “Will you read it to me? Please?”

“No.” Instead Rafe re-rolled the manuscript and replaced it on the shelf. Then turning to the boy, a twinkle winking in one eye, he announced, “Someday, _you_ will read it to _me_.” He looked over the labels on each of the scrolls. “These are all writings regarding the House of Oosha. To the Ooshati, these are very important documents.”

“Wow,” David breathed, suddenly feeling like he had trudged muddy feet into a shrine. Gaze cast about the room. “I guess I shouldn’t be touching anything in here.” An apologetic glance at the older man. “In fact, I feel kind of bad taking over the commander’s room, and him having to move in with his first officer. I should have just been given a cabin back in the crew’s quarters or something.”

Rafe shook his head. “You’re heir to the throne. Of course you belong here.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to come across like some stuck-up holier-than-thou aristocrat. I’m just a man, no better than anyone else on this ship.”

The big man smiled. “Well, I wouldn’t worry about the commander. I suspect he and his first officer are quite used to sharing a cabin.” And there was an odd little knowing something in his ex­pression that caught David’s notice.

Questioningly he frowned up at his protector and guide. “You make it sound like they’re sleeping together.”

“They are.” A matter-of-fact answer, and explanation: “They’re bound as thaavisto.”

“Thaavisto? Is that Tyrusian for ‘lovers’?” The concept didn’t shock or horrify David, but obviously there was a lot to learn about this new culture of which he would soon be a part. And he thought about a hologram of two young men obviously very fond of each other.

“That is one part of it. The concept doesn’t exist in your America, but thaavisto are warrior bond-mates, bound body and soul, for life and beyond.”

“And how do you know that _they_ are?”

“Because of the certain level of language they use with each other. The Tyrusian language has several levels, from formal politeness to intimate familiarity. And also because most officers _are_ bonded, and a comman­der who is will naturally choose his thaavisto to be his first officer. At any rate, thaavisto isn’t a secret to be kept.”

“So, uh, what do Tyrusian wives think of this?”

“They don’t think anything of it. It’s an accepted part of our culture for the warrior class. Thaavisto in no way diminishes the marriage bond, although the bonded men will no doubt share less intimacy with each other once they are married.”

“Oh.” And then the question that David had to ask, about two other Tyrusian warriors who he knew had also been very close. “Were you and my father… thaavisto?”

“Yes,” Rafe admitted freely. “We were – are – bound. We were conjoined officially by the T’laur – you would say shaman or priest – the day your father formally attained manhood. He was 16, I was 28. That was almost thirty years ago.”

Now the picture of Rafe and his father was beginning to sharpen into focus, the relationship between the two of them which had just been a blur to David before. “So, you, uh… slept with him?”

A little humor tugged at the corner of Rafe’s lips. “Yes – many times.” Kindly he watched the younger man. “Does that change your opinion of me, David?”

David gulped. “Mm, no – no, that’s cool,” he answered truthfully, if a little nonplussed. “I’ve, uh, got no problem with it.” Yet another question demanded to be spoken. “Did… umm… did my mother know?”

“She knew. However, when the two of them chose to become child-bearing mates, he and I mutu­ally agreed to cease physical relations completely, out of respect for your mother’s Earth customs.”

And suddenly David could sense the loss. So far, he had had no sexual partner in his life, but he could imagine – to have someone you shared a bed with, shared – _that_ – with, taken away from you. Empathetically he reacted, “That must have been hard for you.”

“It was. But thaavisto goes far beyond the physical body. Physical union is but a small part. It is a union of two warrior spirits, joining them as one.” Pride brightened blue eyes. “And that part of our bond is still very much alive.”  
* * * * *

Rafe has some texts about Tyrus computer-translated into English, for David to start studying the other half of his inheritance – some history books, some science, some military strategy, some culture, etc., plus some on the Tyrusian language. He puts an electronic pad and a writing implement on the desk before David. “Your first lesson: the Tyrusian alphabet. There are 104 characters. Learn them.”

David questions teasingly, “Will there be pop quizzes?”

“No,” the older man responds seriously. “But I expect from you that during this journey you will attempt some conversation with the crew members. They are your people. Get to know them.”

“Yes sir.”

~ ~ ~

In his reading, David learns that Tyrusian astronomers discovered Earth fifty years ago. They were quite excited to find another planet whose conditions mirrored those of Tyrus – same size, same distance from a similar star, same atmosphere – the odds of such a thing were, well, astronomical. And they were very eager to set up an expedition to find out if Earth supported similar life. When interstellar probes came back with amazingly promising data, Cale’s father had authorized the Earth-bound diplomatic mission thirty years ago, under his brother Dragit’s command (little knowing that Dragit planned to conquer this new planet.)

 ~ ~ ~

At meals, David and Rafe sit with the other officers.

All the food is unknown to David, flavors he’d never tasted before. But he is eager to sample it all. Some dishes are quite spicy.

When someone offers him a dish, David automatically says, “thanks”.

Rafe advises him, “Your second lesson: you say ‘Dah­klaht’.”

David says, “Dahklaht” to the man, and the man responds, “Dahklaht,” with a friendly nod.

“The most important word in the Tyrusian language,” Rafe announces.

“Like ‘please’?” David guesses.

“It’s like ‘please’, ‘thank you’, ‘you’re welcome’, and ‘greetings’, all rolled into one.”  
* * * * *  
 _to be continued_ …


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happily David stretched again. “Man, of all the ways I imagined celebrating my eighteenth birthday, ending up in bed with the sheriff – who turns out to be an alien from another planet – was not one of them.”

“Rafe,” David ventured hesitantly, “could you and I be thaavisto? If my father is gone…””

“No,” Rafe refused directly.

David flushed with embarrassment, quickly stammering an apology, “I… I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have even…”

But Rafe corrected, “No, you don’t understand. There’s no shame in asking. But thaa­visto bonds two as one. The T’laur intertwines the very fibers of our souls, so that each indivi­dual is larger than himself alone. It is quite a literal bonding, and it is unbreakable. Even though it’s been nearly seventeen years since we last saw each other, and even if he is dead, I will only be your father's thaavisto, and he mine. Nothing changes that.” He smiled and chided gently, “You wouldn’t want an old man like me, anyway. If it is meant to be for you, you will find one to bond so closely with.”  
* * * * *

But even so, David found he couldn’t stop thinking about Rafe, and by the time they reached the land-base, respect and liking had ripened into strong physical desire. He found himself gazing longingly at the older man, whenever Rafe’s back was turned. Even as he knew that he was lusting after his father’s lover.

Until one evening alone in David’s cabin, Rafe took David’s shoulders from behind, and unquenched desire surged through the young man. Knowingly, Rafe suggested, “It seems there’s something you’ve been wanting to say to me these last few days. Do you want to tell me what it is?”

Helplessly David relented, “Oh, man, are you Tyrusians psychic too?”

Rafe snorted. “I don’t have to be psychic to read you, boy. Just older and a lot more experi­enced.”

“I’m sorry, Rafe.”

“What for? I keep telling you, you don’t need to be sorry.”

“But… you and my dad… You said we couldn’t…”

“I said we couldn’t be thaavisto. I never said we couldn’t explore other… avenues. Your eighteenth birthday is in three weeks. I may just have a special present for you.”

At that, David turned to shoot a curious look at the man. “How do you remember my birth­day?”

“How could I forget? The heir to our throne.” A twinkle in blue eyes. And besides, I helped deliver you.” At David’s widening eyes, the older man grinned. “Well, we couldn’t very well go the hospital to have a half-alien baby delivered, could we?”

“Umm, Mom did say I was delivered at home, but, uh… I don’t think she ever mentioned, umm…” David gulped, cheeks pinking. “Okay… umm… this is… umm… getting kind of… awk­ward now…”

“It’s your call, boy,” Rafe allowed, with a friendly pat to David’s shoulder, then left the room.  
* * * * *

On the night of his birthday, David went to Rafe’s quarters. “That, umm, special present,” he mentioned hopefully, “ – is it still available…?”

The older man grinned. “Yes. I’ve got it right here, waiting for you.”

Color filled the boy’s cheeks.

“So…” Rafe suggested, “why don’t you come in and close the door, so I can give it to you?”

“…uhh, yeah…” The boy obeyed quickly, hardly able to breathe.

The table was set for an intimate dinner for two. From a decanter, Rafe poured an aqua-colored drink for the two of them – for himself he poured a quarter-glass, for David just a tiny amount, David protested, “Hey, don’t I get more?” to which Rafe replied, twinkle in eye, “Not if you want to enjoy the rest of your party. And drink it slow.”

And Rafe was right – David and Jim might have snuck a few underage beers, but David wasn’t ready for the bitter bite of this otherworldly liquor. One swallow, and he nearly choked in shock, which made Rafe grin in amusement. “It’s Commander Krashti’vt’s birthday gift to you. Androssian liquor, hard to get and very expensive.”

David coughed, trying to get his breath back. Tears leaked down his cheeks. “Androssian… liquor…?” he wheezed harshly through burned throat, and wondered off-hand, _is this what it’s like getting tear-gassed_? “Are you sure he didn’t just… bleed the hydraulic lines…?”

He thought he might be sick, and miss the rest of his party anyway – until the alcohol’s delayed reaction crept over him, and the buzz of that one swallow got him flying way high. And Rafe grinned wider. “That’s why you don’t get any more.”

After dinner, they left the table. Pulling him close, Rafe’s large hands rested on narrow hips. The young man was nearly a head shorter and probably at least forty pounds lighter. Watching him carefully, Rafe reached up to stroke thick blue-black hair, then slid a finger under his jaw to tilt his head up.

“… Rafe…” David breathed a shuddering breath, eyes half-closed, lips parted slightly, expec­ting Rafe to kiss him. Rafe’s rough fingers traced over cheek line, ball of a thumb caressed a full lower lip.

Suddenly David gave a little chuckle.

“What?” Rafe questioned, continuing to stroke pretty lips.

David smiled, eyes dreamy. “Boy, I sure never expected my first kiss to be from you.”

“Well, I hope it doesn’t disappoint.” And taking David’s chin, the older man leaned down and kissed him full on the mouth.

David melted into the kiss, giving as eagerly as he got, pressing up against the man’s solid battle-hard body. And it didn’t take any time at all before he opened his mouth all the way to invite a probing tongue in, which Rafe took advantage of very quickly. David gulped, as Rafe penetrated his mouth, and he tasted Rafe’s mouth and laved the older man’s tongue with his own, hardly able to fight down the increasing hot pressure in his groin, never wanting this kiss to end.

Until finally Rafe pulled back, and David was left with a feeling of emptiness and saliva dry­ing coolly on his lips.

Fingers traced down spinal channel, as the lined stern face looked down at him. “So, was that acceptable?”

“God, Rafe…” The boy was practically floating a inch off the floor, having nearly come from that one kiss. “I… never knew…”

Not that he had ever concerned himself with the sheriff’s love-life before, and of course he knew that Rafe never married, but he realized now that for as long as he’d know him, he’d never seen him out on a date, or for that matter, even just hanging around with anyone, man or woman.

Curiosity finally got the best of him. “Rafe?” he questioned. “Have you had anyone since you and my dad, uh, quit?”

“No.”

“So, umm… since then, what do you, y’know… do about it?”

A little wry side-glance and short chuckle. “Do I really have to explain that to an adolescent boy?”

And David felt heat climb his cheeks, as he grinned self-consciously. “…umm… no, I guess not...”

David found himself staring as Rafe stripped down and stood before him. Rafe smiled and assured, “No, there’s not much difference between Tyrusian anatomy and Earth human.”

David wondered, “Have you, umm, seen humans… umm…”

Rafe grinned. “Well, I _was_ the sheriff. There isn’t much I haven’t seen.” He approached the young man. “Now, are you planning on getting undressed too, or do you need some help?”

David could feel his heart racing. Coyness overcoming reticence, he smiled brightly sugges­tive. “Well, I _could_ use some help… if you want to give it…”

Standing before the boy, Rafe unfastened the uniform and slid it down off slender shoulders, hands moving over bare arms. Casually a fingertip flicked one exposed nipple. A little noise escaped David’s lips, and that embarrassed him. He hadn’t planned to be whimpering this soon.

Carefully Rafe removed the garment the rest of the way, David helping, then maneuvered them both over to the bed. And laying David down on his back, he rested on an elbow next to him. Carefully he stroked David’s body, his flanks, down the soft skin of inner thighs, and David was just in utter bliss.

“Have you ever done this before?” the older man inquired.

For a moment, David thought to mention Jim Bailey, but then decided against it. Several years ago, he and Jim had briefly, nervously, skittered a little conversation around the edge of the subject, and shared a couple of tentative half-hearted touches through jeans, but then both had chickened out before even so much as a kiss happened. No point in bringing that up now. “No,” he answered truthfully. “You’re my first.”

Smoothly Rafe prepared David, worked him up gradually. “Well, I hope you know what you’re in for. And if at any time you want me to quit, you just say so, and I will,” he promised. “Tonight is for you.”

“Quit? Oh god, Rafe…” the youth murmured, “… I want it all!”

“Don’t worry,” Rafe assured. “We’ve got all night.”

“But I don’t think I can make it all night.” A raw chuckle caught in David’s throat, as he admit­ted, “I don’t think I’m even gonna last more’n thirty seconds.”

“Well, I hope you do. Otherwise you’re going to lose out on most of your gift.”

“Rafe?”

“Mmm?”

“Have you ever thought about me like this before?”

“No. Never.”

“Could you have? Even a little?”

“No, boy. And even if I had, I would have interrupted it immediately. My duty was to guard you; to take advantage of you and manipulate your desires would have been a grievous breach of my responsibilities.” A little smile. “Not to mention, your mother would have had me strung up.”

“Then why did you agree now?”

“Because now you are a grown man, in charge of your own desires.” Thumb rubbed across lower lip again. “And because now I _have_ thought about it.”

David couldn’t help but kiss the caressing thumb. “I’m glad,” he murmured. “I didn’t want to think I was forcing you.” Then stroking a hand down thick muscular torso, strong hip, he grinned a little. “Not that I imagine anyone could force you to do anything you didn’t want to…”

Carefully Rafe pushed one finger in, and David spasmed in near-ecstasy. Still, Rafe took his time, working him inside, until the young man was begging for it.

“Take it easy,” Rafe assured, “there’s a lot more to come. You need to be stretched before I take you, or this isn’t going to work.” And gently he worked a second finger in. A wail of near-transcendence keened from David’s throat.

The boy was moaning, gasping, as he was stimulated inside. “Rafe…” he gasped, “…make it hurt. I want you to make it hurt… please…”

The unexpected request amused the older man. “What do you want that for?”

“I just do… I need it… please…”

But Rafe just kept up his gentle steady pace. “Oh, it’ll hurt, I promise. Believe me, I won't have to _make_ it hurt. You’ll be sore, because you don’t know how to relax yet and accommodate someone. But there’s no reason to over-do it. You still have to be able to walk tomorrow.”

The youth was practically floating in another dimension, eyes closed, body rocking with the internal stimulation. “I don’t… care about… tomorrow…” he gasped. “I’m not thinking… about tomorrow…”

“I know you’re not. That’s why I have to.”

Finally, Rafe asked, “Are you ready for me, boy?”

David was already almost on the edge. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“…yes!… god yes, Rafe!… how much surer do I have to be? Do it now, Rafe… please, do it now!!”

They started out with David on hands and knees on the bed, head down on the pillow. Rafe took his time entering the young man to make it as easy as possible on David. Finally when he had penetrated all the way, he pulled David up so they were both up on their knees, David’s arms braced, hands spread on the wall at the head of the bed, and Rafe went to work. With finesse, he curled one hand around David’s cock, caressing and stimulating, but also squeezing just so, in order to prevent the youth from coming too soon. And he made himself hold out for a long time too.

He kept going, keeping them both on the edge for a long time, skillful technique to keep them on the keening edge of ecstasy without going over, until pleasure was almost agony for the boy, and David reverted to huddling on the bed, being rocked for all he’s worth. Until finally Rafe released them both in blinding orgasm.

And in climax, Rafe called Cale’s name.

As they lay side by side in post-coital exhaustion, he apologized. “I’m so sorry, David…”

But now David was the one to assure, “You don’t need to be sorry, Rafe. I’m glad I could be my dad for you, even if just for a minute.”

A large hand stroked sweat-drenched thick black hair. “Boy, you have no idea how much you’re like your father.”

“You miss him a lot, don’t you? Maybe even more than I do.”

“Every single day... for seventeen years,” Rafe admitted roughly, through a tight throat, and the pain in his voice caused David to roll over toward the older man, and they drew each other into a tight embrace.

David whispered, emotion tight in his own throat, “I wish I could be him for you all the time, Rafe. I would if I could.”

For a lingering time Rafe just held him without saying anything, then finally urged, “No, don’t try to be someone else. You’re David Carter, a good man in your own right. And I’ve got my memories.”

David took a deep breath. “Rafe, I need you so much. I don’t know how I’m gonna do this if anything happens to you.”

Releasing the embrace, Rafe chuckled. “Hmm, and this from someone who told me not too long ago that they didn’t need friends like me.”

The younger man smiled contentedly, rolling back to his side of the bed. “That was some idiot. I don’t even know who that was. But really, Rafe, I wouldn’t know what to do if you aren’t here to guide me. I couldn’t do it.”

“Don’t talk nonsense, boy. Of course, you’d go on. Well, anyway. I don’t plan on going anywhere for a long time. I prepared one prince for the throne. Now I’ve got another,” – a little wink – “and it looks like this one is going to take a lot of work.”

“Yeah,” David grinned confidently, stretching out, and clasping his hands under his head again. “And some lessons I think I’m going to need to repeat… over and over…”

At that, Rafe rolled over and captured David’s wrists. “Don’t get too smart-mouthed, boy,” the older man chided, keeping a straight face. “Just because you’re heir to the throne, don’t think I can’t whip your ass when you need reinforcement – because I can.”

“Mm,” the young man surmised sultrily, “then I just might need a _lot_ of reinforcement…” Curiously, he inquired, “When you ‘n’ my dad… did it… were you the one, y’know… on top all the time…?”

Rafe shook his head. “Nah. We shared.” A little twinkle in blue eyes. “Sometimes we wrestled for it.”

David grinned. “I should’ve known my wrestling practice would come in handy some day.” But then seriously he asked, “Rafe, if you and he are bonded like you say… that thaavisto thing… wouldn’t you know if my father is dead or not? Wouldn’t you sense it?”

Rafe nodded thoughtfully. “I think that I would.” Compassionately he watched the young man. “And no, boy, I haven’t felt that. I think he’s still alive.”

“Oh god, I hope so.” Happily David stretched again. “Man, of all the ways I imagined celebrating my eighteenth birthday, ending up in bed with the sheriff – who turns out to be an alien from another planet – was not one of them.”

“Not what you expected, mm?”

“Nah. You comin’ to bust up the party, maybe.”

“But you never expected me to _be_ the party, hmm?… So, was it worthwhile?”

“Oh yeah. Yes.” A tilt of head to look at the man beside him, and a sincere murmur, “Dahk­laht, Rafe. Dahklaht.”

Rafe stroked the young man’s hair again. “Dahklaht, krdl-sant.”

* * * * *

 _to be continued_ …


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a work-in-progress. David and Rafe are captured by the Dragit's men and brutalized, but their love pulls them through.
> 
> “I know I’m not my father, but can you like me…that way… at all?”  
> A mellow warmth ran through Rafe’s nerves, and he smiled supportively. “David,” he assured, “it’s very easy to like you that way.” “Then can we do it again sometime?” “If you’d like.” “Tonight?” A little smile. “I suppose that could be arranged.”

In the morning, after shower and breakfast, Rafe announced, “I have one more present for you,” and handed David a flat box. David opened it, and his eyes widened. Carefully folded inside was a Tyrusian uniform. But unlike the crewmembers’ maroon, and commanders Rafe’s and Krash­ti’vt’s grey, this one was blue, with a wide black diagonal band across the chest. And appliquéd to the left breast was a silver crest, which David could guess was the royal insignia.

“The color and the sigil of the Royal House of Oosha,” Rafe affirmed. “This was your father’s uniform. Now it’s yours.”

David unfolded the garment and held it up to admire it. “Wow,” he murmured almost rever­ently, then looked up at the man. “But will it fit?”

“It’ll fit,” Rafe assured. “Clothes on Tyrus are woven from a memory-fiber. You’re a little shorter and lighter than your father, but the material adjusts to the wearer. Similar in a way to the memory-ability of the Exotar. Put it on,” he urged with a smile, “ – you must dress as the royal heir that you are.”

In anticipation, David quickly slipped out of the grey uniform, then pulled on the blue suit and fastened it. Rafe was right, it fit perfectly.

“Now, put on the Exotar.”

The young man did, and the silver cloth of the glove-weapon-tool gleamed on his hand.

Adjusting the uniform’s high collar, David stood before him, beaming, all blue and black and silver, thick black hair blowsy over his forehead, and blue-violet eyes bright, a young man tall and straight with pride. “There. Do I look princely enough now?”

Approval sparkled in the older man’s eyes. “Every inch, David Oosha, every inch,” he acknowledged. And then, unexpected to David, this big powerful man, this warrior, knelt to one knee before him, bowed his head in honor, and vowed solemnly, “My liege, my allegiance is yours, for this life and beyond.”

And David gasped – and thought of a careless boy who, until a few weeks ago, resented the interference of this man in his life – completely, utterly, blind to the fierce loyal protection that had shielded him from harm all these years. No, if anyone should be swearing their life to the other, it should be the other way around. “Rafe…” he murmured, eyes moistening. “I can never repay all the loyalty you’ve already given to my father… and to me. I can’t begin… to even…”

Rafe raised his head, and assured, “There is no need to repay me, David Oosha. It is with great pride that I serve the House of Oosha, and I always will.”  
* * * * *

“I know I’m not my father, but can you like me…that way… at all?”

A mellow warmth ran through Rafe’s nerves, and he smiled supportively. “David,” he assured, “it’s very easy to like you that way.”

“Then can we do it again sometime?”

“If you’d like.”

“Tonight?”

A little smile. “I suppose that could be arranged.”

And then the question that David really wanted to ask. “Can we do it every night, Rafe? Even if we’re not thaavisto, can we become lovers?”

That elicited a little sigh from the older man, and without answering, but lightly chucking the boy under the chin, Rafe laid a little kiss on the corner of David’s mouth.

David slumped, surmising, “That usually means ‘no’.”

“It means,” Rafe elucidated, “as I mentioned before, some day you’re the one who’s going to grow tired of having an old man in bed with you, and you’re going to want someone your own age.”

“And,” David added glumly, “it probably also means that if we ever find my father again, you’ll be going back to him.”

“Yes,” Rafe acknowledged, “it means that too. Anyway, I thought you were eager to see your father again.”

“Oh, I am,” David hastily assured. “But, now I’m just… really really envious of him. I never thought I’d feel that way about him…”He nodded stiffly. “So, the answer is ‘no’, huh?”

“The answer is, don’t be so impatient. Let things develop as they will. And besides, your plate is very full right now, David. It’s not the time to add all the emotional baggage of a serious relationship.”

“Yeah.” The boy turned toward the door.

“David,” the older man called him back. “The answer is yes – for the time being. Will that do?”

David’s face brightened. “Oh yeah. I can live with that.”

“All right, now get back to your studies.”

“Yeah, like I can keep my mind on my lessons now.”

The teacher’s stern expression returned. “And that’s exactly what I’m talking about, boy.”

David grinned. “I promise, I promise!”  
* * * * *

The outpost is like any stop-over point with stores, entertainment, eating places. David is eager to explore this extension of Tyrus, and find out all he can about his new world. Rafe is willing to show him around, and indeed wants him to learn and explore. But he also wants to keep him safe – he doesn’t want the boy wandering off by himself, as there could be enemies anywhere. Many ships stop here, so most of them will be Dragit’s troops. Also David doesn’t wear his new royal uniform, but rather that of a regular crewman, so he doesn’t stick out as the Ooshati prince.

But for a moment they are separated, maybe something in a store window catches David’s eye and he lingers behind. And in that moment, Rafe is suddenly captured. His first thought is to call for David, only to see that David has been caught and is struggling mightily against his captors.

The man in charge is delighted. “Well, this is quite a coup – the fugitives, Commander Rafe and the young prince himself. I must thank you – you’ve just made me admiral. The Dragit has been so eager to retrieve the two of you, that he has offered an admiralty to any man who catches you both – even a lowly first-grade. Oh, excuse me for not introducing myself – it’s been a long time. I’ll bet you don’t recognize me, do you, Commander Rafe?”

“Captain Ctholien – or should I say First-grade Ctholien? So, is the Dragit so desperate for troops that he’s scraping scum from the prison latrines now?”

The man continues to smile. “It’s Captain again. The Dragit recognized talent that the Ooshati had imprisoned, and released many of us and reinstated our ranks.”

[ _somewhere in here, they are taken to the man’s office, or his ship, or some holding area_ ]

Without taking his glaring gaze from their captor, Rafe explains to David, “This man was once under my command. But due to brutal treatment of captives, I had him court-martialed and his rank broken to first-grade.”

“I prefer to call it enthusiasm for my duties, which the Dragit has appreciated.”

“Call it what it is – torture and rape of prisoners under your control. For that, I could have requested the death penalty. I didn’t, and that was my mistake.”

“Well, that was a long time ago. Let bygones be bygones. Ah, but Your Highness, forgive me for ignoring you.” The man approaches David, lifts his head by a finger under his chin. David is glaring fiercely, but there’s nothing he can do – he’s held securely. Their captor eyes him apprecia­tively. “Well, I knew from pictures that you were a pretty thing. But now I see, in the flesh, your luscious beauty.”

David tries to lunge at the man. “You bastard! I’ll see you hang!”

A careless hand slaps sharply across his face, and the man chides gently, “That’s hardly the proper language for our pretty prince.” And taking his chin once again, the man leans down to place a kiss on the boy’s lips. David resists, lips tightly closed so the man can’t penetrate his mouth. Instead the man licks his lips sensually, then takes the trouble to nip his lower lip. David yells and pulls away. Furiously he glowers at the man, feeling a little trickle of blood well up. He licks it away and tastes iron.

The man wipes a forefinger across the blood, then studies the blood-stained finger. “Hmm. So, the earth-spawn bleeds red just like we do. Interesting.” He turns attention back to Rafe. “Tell me, Commander, for all the time you’ve been ministering to him, surely you’ve helped yourself to this tasty little morsel.”

Rafe doesn’t react to the provocation, but David does vehemently, giving everything away.

The man grinned. “I thought so. Well, I hope you don’t mind, but I think I’m going to have to try a taste myself. The Dragit wants you both back alive, but I don’t think he’ll mind what I help myself to in the meantime.”

At that Rafe does explode, but he can’t break away. “Lachstavl!!” he cursed violently. “If you touch His Highness, I swear to the gods I will have you drawn and quartered!”

The man only shrugged. “Commander, you seem to have forgotten which of us in charge now. And by the way, I think I owe you something.” Then calmly removing his belt and doubling it over, the man sud­denly snarled and smacked the strap viciously across Rafe’s face – once, twice.

With a sharp grunt, Rafe dropped to the ground helplessly, and the man stepped forward, bringing the belt down savagely again and again on Rafe’s shoulders, his back, legs, head, anywhere the strap could reach. Desperately, writhing on the ground, grunting, yelling, Rafe brought up his handcuffed arms to cover his face.

“Stop it!” David screamed in horror. “Oh god stop it!!”

But the man kept it up, finally stopping only when his arm wearied. “There,” he acknow­ledged, panting from exertion. “I think that helps even the score a little. For the time being, any­way.”

“Rafe!” David cried to the big man huddled on the ground.

Slowly, stiffly, Rafe lifted his head. Bloody gashes ripped his face, blood ran from his nose and mouth, red stained his clothes.

Again the man took David’s chin. “Don’t worry, I would never hurt your pretty face like that.”  
* * * * *

The man is saying what he’s going to do to Rafe, and how he’d been thinking about hits the whole time he was in prison.”

Rafe just looks away casually. ‘Well, then get on with it, so I don’t have to keep listening to you blathering about it.”  
* * * * *

David and Rafe are captured, locked in straight-backed chairs facing each other, wrists locked to the chair arms with metal bands. Their captors acknowledge that it probably wouldn’t do any good to try to break Rafe – the older man is so well-trained and disciplined that he could just hold out until he died. But the boy should be easy. They torture David with electrodes attached to parts of his body that fire randomly, while Rafe is forced to watch. Then the bad guys leave, saying they will give the two of them some time to enjoy the entertainment, and they will be back later to see if the boy is in a more coöperative mood.

David is fighting so hard against the excruciating pain, fighting not to give in, eyes scrunched closed, cries leaking out between clenched teeth.

Rafe tells him, “David, concentrate.”

David’s voice shuddered. “I can’t – _guhhh_!!” Abruptly his body stiffened as another shock sizzled through nerves, head snapped back, sweaty black hair tossing. Teeth gritted. “I can’t, Rafe!”

“You have to.” Voice stern. “David. Look at me.”

“I – can’t…!”

“Look at me!”

David tried, staring at Rafe. Rafe’s left eye flashed blue, but before David’s eye could catch it, another shock snapped his head back, and a shriek tore from his throat.

“David!” Rafe ordered sharply. “Try! Keep your eyes open and _look at me_!”

With all his might, David tried again, forcing his eyes to stay open no matter what, even as tears ran down his cheeks. Again blue flashed from Rafe’s eye, and this time, it entered David’s left eye.

“Now concentrate on me. Concentrate on me! David!”

The young man was crying, and trying so hard not to. But they managed to lock eyes. And gradually David’s pain receded, until he realized that it was because Rafe was drawing the agony into himself. The warrior’s body was tense, and sweat rivulets ran down his face.

“Rafe!”

“Focus! Don’t break your concentration!” Even with the pain wracking his body, the older man just kept pulling it in, until David’s was at a manageable level.

Now it was Rafe whose teeth were gritted. “Now, get us free!” he barked. “And hurry!”

“…yeah…” David’s voice shuddered weakly. But he turned his concentration to the steel bands locking his wrists, and finally they gave way. As quickly as he could, he pulled his hands free, and yanked off the electrodes. The pain ceased instantly, and both he and Rafe slumped in relief.

The bad guys come back and see that the prisoners are free, but before they can do anything, David controls the electrodes to fly toward their captors and attach to their bodies, then psychically drives the gain way up so the men faint (or are killed), then he and Rafe take their weapons and escape.  
* * * * *

When they get back to their quarters on Krashti’vt’s ship, residual pain is still throbbing through David’s body, plus the shame of what happened to him. He ends up huddled on the floor, on elbows and knees, forehead touching the floor, as he tries to endure.

Rafe comes in with something in hand. It is a small tube like a syringe. “This will help,” he assured, and pressed the end against David’s shoulder. A quick needle prick. “Anaesthetic and stimulant,” he explained. “It’s used on the battlefield to revive wounded soldiers. You should feel better in about twenty minutes.”

From his fetal position, David looked up at Rafe. Tears streaked his cheeks. In a shaky voice he asked, “You’re all right?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine. Tyrusians heal faster than Earth humans. Hopefully you inherited that ability from your father.” Lifting David up, he helped him over to the bed, where the boy curled up, then sat beside him.

David’s voice trembled. “Don’t stay with me. Please… go away...”

Soothingly Rafe touched the boy’s shoulder. “David…”

The boy flinched away, tears welling up. “Please… leave me alone. I… don’t want to cry in front of you.”

But Rafe didn’t move. “David. There is no shame in crying. And I can’t leave. A thaavisto would never leave his partner like this.”

At that, David’s teary face looked up. “But we’re not thaavisto….”

“No,” Rafe agreed. “No, but it is only the formal bonding that is lacking.” Gently he stroked black hair. “And this is all my fault that this happened to you. I failed my promise to your father and to you, and I will take any punishment you deem.”

David choked on tears, voice small and tremulous. “I don’t… want to punish you, Rafe…”  
* * * * *

“David…” A large hand squeezed his knee, and quietly Rafe suggested, “Your mother may be…”

At that David looked up, voice quavering a little. “What?”

“Well, I don’t want to get your hopes up, because I have no way of knowing for sure… but I just feel that she may still be alive, just as I feel your father may be as well.”

At that, David looked directly at the older man. “How could she be?” he insisted. “You saw everything… the house… everything. It just disintegrated…”

“Yes. I saw.”   
* * * * *

David’s thaavisto will finally be his human best friend, Jim Bailey, who will join him on Tyrus.  
* * * * *

[I don’t plan on having Rafe die, but if I do, this bit came to mind, of David huddled over Rafe’s fallen body]

And he cried. For a man who was far his better. For a man he had often carelessly ignored and resented. For a man he had finally come to respect and honor and love. And for a man in whose bed he had ultimately shared tenderness and caring.

And the memory of large calloused hands and warmth would live within him for the rest of his life, even as the man now lay on the ground before him, cold and still.  
* * * * *


End file.
